A girl awoke the morning of her 13th birthday, giddy, overjoyed and bursting with excitement. She dolled herself up and smiled at her reflection, unconcerned that her dress was unironed or that her hair was a tad matted. It didn’t matter, it was her birthday. Throughout the day she was adorned with gifts, sung happy birthday and hugged and praised. By night time, she was cuddled in her room opening her last gift, a small wrapped object signed by her Aunt. She was never particularly close with this Aunt. They were truthfully very similar, but their fiery opinionated personalities clashed. She sighed and unwrapped the gift to see a blank book. “Strange” she thought, so she decided to open it up and was greeted by a front page that read,
A GUIDEBOOK ON HOW TO BE A GIRL
When you’re a girl, you can’t be too loud because that’s annoying, unlikeable, and wrong.
It’s crude to be opinionated, for your ideas and opinions should never overpower a man’s.
Don’t be too happy. Don’t be too sad.
Don’t wear makeup, that means you’re self-centered. Unless your eyes look tired. That's ugly.
If your lashes are short and your nose is large, please make sure you do something about that. But don’t do too much, you’ll look like you’re trying too hard.
Unless of course your acne is active, no one wants to see that.
Don’t wear anything revealing, you’re just asking for it at that point.
Don’t put on sweats! You look homeless and disheveled.
Brush your hair, tie it up, take it down.
Curl it, straighten it, cut it, grow it. None of it looks right.
The girl slammed the book close. She had read more than enough. She couldn’t believe what she had read. More importantly, that her Aunt felt comfortable, or worse, proud that she had given such a disgusting book to her. At that moment, she decided she’d write her own book. She leaped out of bed and yanked up a few random papers and pens and began her own guidebook.
With a huge sharpie, she marked her first page as,
A GUIDEBOOK ON HOW TO BE A GIRL YOU:
Your opinion on yourself should always be number one.
You have to love yourself before you can love anyone else.
That’s it.
Those are the only two rules.
If you stretch,
and morph,
and rearrange yourself to fit every single new standard,
you’ll lose yourself.
The millions of personalities you’ve created
mix and trade in places,
until one day you stand in front of a mirror and cannot
tell who you are.
Who is this faceless image who is not quite you but not, not you?
A mindless puppet acting out your commands,
but you’re hardly in control.
Your mind is blurry and this figure in front of you is someone,
or rather something you do not know.
All of this was done in the sake of being presentable.
Of being liked.
Of survival.
We tear down women and build them up and toss them around as if they are dolls and not humans.
We tell them hundreds of different instructions and create endless amounts of expectations
and feel no shame degrading them in every aspect.
At the end of the day, You are the only one who can truly love every aspect of yourself.
Every thought,
every word,
every way you’ve looked throughout life,
and every breath that escapes your lips.
Life is far too short to care what the billions of people on Earth think about you.
Those who care will be there and those who don’t, won’t.
—
The girl put down her pen and smiled. She got up and began to leave before rushing back to add a final rule into her book.
3. Do what brings you joy
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